Relationships. They have been on my mind lately. I have had several discussions with friends around the world about them, so on them I ruminate.
When I was a little girl, I assumed I would grow up, get married and have kids–after getting my Ph.D. of course. White picket fence, apple pie, and all that stuff. I didn’t really think about what it would mean, of course, as that part was never explicitly explained to me. Still, by what I absorbed from reading tons of books, it seemed like a pretty straight-forward proposition to me. Go to college, meet my hubby-to-be, get married, have kids and a career.
Well, reality intruded. I was never a popular kid, partly because I grew up Asian in a mostly-white area, partly because I was so brainy, and partly because I just didn’t fit in. I got teased for being fat, Asian, and smart. It was pretty much a daily occurrence, and it started pretty early.
I hate Valentine’s Day. I hate the whole idea, and I hate the stupid commercials. Now, I must confess that I hate holidays in general, so it’s no big shock that I hate VD, but there’s a little more gusto to my hatred of this fake-holiday than of any other. For one, if you are in a het relationship, there is this idea that the man is supposed to dazzle the woman with a big, showy expression of his love. It could be flowers; it could be candy; it could be jewelry–but a combination of all three is the best. Oh, don’t forget the thoughtful card, the cute plushie, and the romantic dinner as well.